


turn to foam

by windingwoods



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windingwoods/pseuds/windingwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning Cynthia had every intention of spending comfortably asleep and Severa is sitting cross-legged on her bed instead, looking several stages of freaked out all at once.<br/>Cynthia takes a moment to question the whole of the life choices she's made so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	turn to foam

**Author's Note:**

> just a few facts before reading to avoid confusion:  
> 1) cordelia and stahl are a thing in this. sumia and sully also are, meaning cynthia and kjelle are sisters.  
> 2) lucina and morgan are sisters too because i love f!morgan fiercely, but my ideal of chrobin is with either nb or m!robin (i have issues with f!rob's support w chrom pls bear with me okay alright) so i'm leaving that to your imagination. just know that it's not het ig.  
> that said, enjoy!!

"Absolutely not."

It's 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning Cynthia had every intention of spending comfortably asleep and Severa is sitting cross-legged on her bed instead, looking several stages of freaked out all at once.

Cynthia takes a moment to question the whole of the life choices she's made so far.

"Why not!" Severa's voice sounds just as freaked out as her face looks, higher than any reasonable sound level Cynthia's ears could ever bear when she's still feeling groggy with sleep.

When she flinches, Severa bites down on her lower lip.

"I can't pretend to be your _girlfriend_ , that’sㅡ that’s messed up!" Cynthia thinks of Cordelia, of the woman who's her zoology teacher and her mother's best friend, the woman who always keeps band-aids in her bag and a picture of Cynthia and Severa when they were children in her wallet. "I don't want to lie to your parents."

"It doesn't have to be for long." By now Severa is crumbling from restless to downright pleading, and no matter how rare the occurrence might be Cynthia is not sure she's all that happy about it. " _Please_ , you're the only one I could ask."

 _Also the worst_ , something in the back of Cynthia's head grumbles but it's true, she can't think of any of her friends who would be both willing and capable of not making Severa want to lie down in a ditch out of sheer embarrassment for the rest of her life.

She should probably feel flattered about this.

Severa's let her hair down, too. She's not wearing any makeup, just dark circles from and a sleepless night; she looks like the girl Cynthia's been friends with since they were both old enough to wrap their minds around the concept of friendship, like the girl she's got a crush on since their last year of high school.

"... Alright," she says, and it's like pulling teeth.

Severa's sigh of relief hangs heavy.

 

.

 

The thing is, she's thought about telling Severa she likes her countless times before. It's been already two years since she realized and the words have been sitting on the tip of her tongue the whole time, pepper burning at the inside of her mouth with every look Severa gives her.

But, despite neither of them having ever said it out loud, Severa is her best friend first and foremost, so Cynthia keeps quiet.

"You _what_?"

It's impossible to expect the same thing from her sister though.

"We're going to pretend we're together," she explains again, goes through each word like she's trying to drag something really heavy with her legs knee-deep into quicksand. Kjelle doesn't spare her a single speck of pity.

"That's bullshit." Her voice sounds angry and her eyes look angrier, but when she speaks again it's much softer, worry making the lines of her frown deepen. "Does mom know?"

It dawns upon Cynthia just now, the fact that the first person Cordelia is going to tell about this mess is most likely Sumia and that there's absolutely _no way_ things would ever work out was her mother to know the truth. Nice.

"I... might have forgotten to think this detail through, actually."

Kjelle groans and it sounds like imminent defeat.

 

.

 

She shouldn't be here.  There are several reasons why she shouldn't be here and yet, against any better judgement, here she is, _here_ being one of the fanciest restaurants known to her.

She's wearing the dress she wore back at her mothers' wedding and the shoes she's borrowed from Severa are a bit too loose at the heels.

"You _so_ owe me one," she hisses under her breath; Severa's answer is her elbow in Cynthia's ribs, the universally recognized warning sign that she's reaching critical levels of nervousness.

They both shouldn't be here.

Next to them Kjelle rolls her eyes in the most discreet fashion she can manage, Sully too busy discussing the menu with Stahl to notice anyway. Cordelia and Sumia are chatting with their heads bent towards each other, eyes alight and shoulders bumping.

They look a good twenty years younger and it makes Cynthia's insides knot.

 _Just for a little while_ , she thinks, the image of Severa sitting on Cynthia's bed with the whole of her existence tumbling downhill still fresh, still there. Just for a little while, she can lie.

Beside her Severa shifts in her seat, presses their knees together; her face is turned the other way but Cynthia can guess the way she's chewing on the inside of her cheeks anyway.

She bumps their elbows together.

From the other side of the table Cordelia flashes her a smile so warm it makes the palms of her hands sweat.

 

.

 

“Are you ready?” Severa asks, shoulders so tense Cynthia worries she might get a sore neck or forget how to breathe correctly.

They’re sitting inside of Severa’s car, the Ylisstol University main campus towering in front of them with an aura of impending doom like a lion’s den.

Cynthia just nods, nervous laughter pulling at her lips because, really, in the end they’re making such a fuss over something as simple as holding hands on their way to school.

Severa must have had the same thought because the next moment she’s dashing out of the car, urging Cynthia to follow her with a glare one bit too awry to sort any desired effect.

When their hands knock together the first thing Cynthia thinks about is that they’re both kinda sweaty, palms uncomfortably warm. The next is that Severa must use far too much hand cream.

(It’s nice, which is a problem.)

“Oh god.” She hears her mutter under her breath, then sees Morgan and Lucina waiting for them by the entrance.

“Oh god,” she echoes.

Morgan is the first to notice, eyes going from their hands to their faces. She takes a moment to look at the both of them and then smiles the smile of someone who’s holding all the winning cards.

That’s how Cynthia knows they’ve already been busted.

On the other hand Lucina takes some more time to register but when she does it’s much more reassuring than Morgan’s knowing smirk. She’s the one who takes the most after Chrom after all.

“Ah!” she exclaims, makes a tiny squeaking sound Cynthia never thought she could hear coming from someone as poised as her. “Are you two, by any chanceㅡ”

“Dating, yes,” Severa cuts in; her fingers curl tighter around Cynthia’s.

She bites around the word _dating_ in a way that makes Morgan cough out a poorly disguised laughing fit.

“That’s wonderful!” Lucina marches on unscathed, and for a moment Cynthia can’t help but grin wide because Lucina sounds so _happy_ , because Severa’s palm is pressed flush against hers, because she can trick herself into thinking it’s all true. For a moment.

When they part ways for classes Morgan whispers something that sounds like a good luck in her ear, then hurries away across the hallway.

She’s the one who takes the most after Robin after all.

 

.

 

Severa's told her to keep the act up in front of their friends too, because said friends are _a bunch of airheads with no filter whatsoever between what they're thinking and the shit that comes out of their mouths_ and that might compromise The Mess (that's how Cynthia's resorted to call it in her mind, refuses to acknowledge it any further), but there are things even Severa isn't aware of.

Like Cynthia having a crush on her. Or Cynthia's other two best friends knowing about it.

"What the _hell_ ," is the first thing Inigo says once they've found an empty classroom where to talk. What a dreadful thing, honestly.

"I am wounded," Owain adds up. "That I am."

Cynthia rubs at the bridge of her nose for a long, silent moment.

"It's notㅡ," She starts, pauses. Regrets. "It's not real."

The two people (after her family, that is) she trusts the most in life do their best impressions of blinking owls back at her.

"You're not dating?" Inigo sounds just as disoriented as Cynthia feels, eyes wide like a child lost in a mall.

"We're not dating," she confirms, lets her head hang down with a stifled sigh. "It's all an act because Severa told her mother she had a girlfriend."

She can feel their eyes on her, can hear their minds whirr as they try to place all the pieces together. She hopes they won't judge her too hard.

Then there's a hand ruffling up her hair, Owain's questionably patterned christmas sweater too close for her vision to focus. "Well, that was really heroic of you."

"Yeah." Inigo's voice is closer too, and when Cynthia raises her head he flashes her his warmest smile, the one that's not a fake. "Just, think about yourself too from time to time, okay?"

She ends up laughing her first genuine laughter since Sunday, loud against the walls of the empty room.

 

.

 

“Okay,” Severa says for the ninth time in ten minutes. She doesn’t look one tiny bit okay.

“Uh,” Cynthia tries, quite a meagre offer. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t feel like it.”

Severa’s fingertips stay pressed against hers, her eyes don’t budge.

That’s progress already.

“Hell no,” she retorts after a moment of presumable mental recollection and inner struggle. “I dragged you into this and I’m making sure you don’t make a fool out of yourself in public.”

 _See also I’m-not-going-to-chicken-out-before-you-do and I’m-maybe-starting-to-feel-a-little-guilty-about-all-of-this_ , Cynthia’s mind supplies dryly, but she knows better than to say it out loud. Severa knows she’s stopped being a riddle back when they were children anyway.

They stay like that for a few more seconds and then, when the silence around them starts hanging heavier and heavier, Cynthia scoots close enough for her fingers to brush Severa’s knuckles. Severa does her the honor of letting their foreheads touch.

“You should kiss me,” she states, seems to regret it the very next moment from the way her shoulders square up. “I mean, we are here to practice and stuff.”

She says _stuff_ like she’s talking about some particularly nasty disease.

“So you’re letting me do all the work?”

There’s a scrunched up nose in Cynthia’s vision now, a huff of breath on her skin.

“You’ve dated someone before, you’re clearly the experienced one.”

“That was like, middle school. _I was in middle school_.”

Severa doesn’t seem to deem it a matter of any relevance though, mouth shut in a displeased line. It makes Cynthia’s stomach churn.

“At least close your eyes, will you.”

For once (and with the worst timing possible, probably) Severa does as she’s told.

She looks almost peaceful like that, frown undone and slack jaw, waiting.

Cynthia starts from her left cheekbone; she kisses there, then lower, slowly like she’s trying not to scare a stray cat away. Not that she knows which one of them is supposed to be the cat anymore.

When their noses brush Severa tilts her head just slightly and it’s _unfair_ , unfair how none of this is real, will never be. It makes something ugly in the back of Cynthia’s mind twist at the thought and before she can think about it twice she’s holding Severa’s face in her hands, kissing Severa’s mouth with parted lips.

When Severa kisses back it tastes anything but bitter, yet it still stings.

 

.

 

When it comes to university, Cynthia thinks she got pretty lucky.

She’s studying zoology (still remembers the look of sheer _bliss_ on her mom’s face the day she’d told her) at her university of choice and she’s got Cordelia as one of her teachers. Judging from some of her friends’ stories that sounds like much more she could’ve ever hoped for.

Then there’s Severa, law student who hates almost every single thing she’s doing. She still manages to get excellent grades, of course.

“Why on earth are you here,” Severa hisses from the seat next to hers.

They’re in class and the teacher at the other end of the room is talking about poetry.

 _Yeah, why am I here?_ Cynthia asks herself too.

Instead she says, “To be a good girlfriend, I think. What about you?”

It’s common knowledge that Severa attends literature classes, really. She’s always tried to be subtle about it, _stealthy_ even, but in the end they all know.

Cynthia offers her half a smile, hopes it will be enough of a peace offering for the time being.

“I’ll never understand why do you insist on doing this to yourself.”

That earns her a glare so cold it makes her skin crawl up in goosebumps, but aside from that Severa looks almost subdued, a smudged hint of dejection spattering her eyes.

“Humanities are for you Little Theatre Club friends,” she declares, and it sounds like she might have thought saying it out loud could actually do the trick and convince her as well. “Not my thing.”

Cynthia could point it out for her that they’re literally in the middle of a lecture about poetry right now (and that Severa was even taking notes earlier), or she could show mercy and let it slide.

She opts for the latter, pretends not to see the way Severa’s whole body seems to curl on itself beside her.

Outside of their fragile bubble of unresolved feelings the teacher starts reading a poem out loud with the same wonder Olivia used to read Cynthia bedtime stories whenever she stayed over at Inigo’s place and that rings a bell somewhere in her memories.

“We studied this one in high school,” she muses under her breath.

Severa uncurls as much as it takes her to hum a noncommittal confirmation. That’s a good sign at least.

 

.

 

It’s Saturday evening and Cynthia would be lying if she said she wasn’t one tiny bit surprised they’ve managed to keep The Mess up a week without major accidents already.

One whole week of sweaty handholding sessions, bumped noses and kisses far too fleeting to actually convince anyone, probably.

Cynthia is so stressed out all of her bones must be having a 24/7 long percussion session by now.

To make things worse, she’s staying over at Severa’s place for the night. (Cordelia’s requests are hard to resist when she sets her mind on something.)

They’re having dinner and Severa’s thumb is brushing up and down Cynthia’s wrist below the table. She doesn’t know whether she’s doing this out of habit, or to keep the act up, or just because she _wants to_ , but she doesn’t dare to hope.

It does feel nice, though.

“I’ll do the dishes this time, you two can go,” Cordelia announces once dinner’s over, radiant in all her benevolent glory and generosity, then hushes them upstairs with a nudge that’s half a hug, giggling quietly as she turns to Stahl.

“God knows why she’s so damn _hype_ about this,” Severa mutters morosely as soon as they reach her room.

Cynthia has only a shrug of her shoulders to offer but that seems to be enough, given how they fall into small talk from then.

Severa even paints her nails a nice navy blue, avoids her eyes the whole time because they both know that’s Cynthia’s favourite colour.

They’ve always shared beds since they were children but this time it’s the bed they were sitting on when they kissed for the first time ( _Oh Lord_ , the inopportune voice in the back of Cynthia’s mind whispers, most unhelpful) and they both seem to eye it like it could come to life and swallow them at any given moment when it’s time to turn the lights out.

It doesn’t last long though, as all awkward and unpleasant things when Severa’s ruthless stubbornness is involved.

She dives under the covers in one brash move, makes the mattress dip and the bed creak, pulls Cynthia close. It’s kind of like a matter of gravity.

Then she’s _nuzzling_ the skin right below her neck and Cynthia forgets how to exist in her physical form for a second.

“You’re overthinking.”

That punches a nervous snicker out of her but hey, she could hardly be blamed for it. For real, she’s been enduring all week.

“Look who’s talking.”

Severa pours all of her righteous exasperation into a self-explanatory, quite undignified huff of breath against Cynthia’s collarbone and that makes them both laugh in the end, hushed and sheepish like when they were younger and would stay up way past bedtime.

Sleep finds them huddled together, curls around them like ivy.

 

.

 

Cynthia is quite proud of her Little Theatre Club, or whatever denigrating nickname Severa might call it next; it’s actually a tiny acting company founded by Olivia and Robin years ago and Cynthia loves it.

They even have their own personal theatre.

“This place reeks of dust.” Severa’s voice cuts through the air with merciless clarity, gets ignored with just as merciless grace.

“Your soul reeks of dust,” Owain retaliates anyway. Cynthia snorts out a giggle.

“Ha ha, _delightful_.” Severa grimaces at her own voice, the one she only ever uses when she’s being begrudgingly fond of someone, then shoots Cynthia a glare. “How long till you’re done?”

Praying it’s still working fine, Cynthia takes a quick look at the wall clock. “I think we might have just finished, actually.”

From across the room she can hear Olivia’s hum of confirmation (she’s started wrapping things up already) so she flashes Severa a grin, hurries to get her backpack trying to ignore the bubbling feeling that’s turning her stomach upside down. Owain squeezes her shoulder as a goodbye.

Once she’s caught up with Severa again there’s no turning back.

“Hey, uh.” Great start, way to go. “Iㅡ I got you something.”

She hands her the tiny, rather ancient-looking book she’s just miraculously managed to fish out of her backpack and Severa accepts it with only a mild look of distrust.

“It’s the anthology your teacher was talking about the other day,” Cynthia explains. “You used to like it a lot back in high school, I remember it now.”

“He’s not _my_ teacher,” Severa retorts, mostly out of reflex.

She doesn’t say anything else for a while, book cradled to her chest, brows furrowed in a half offended, half pensive look. Then, “your play is the day after tomorrow, right?”

Cynthia nods, the safest option.

Severa hums, also the safest option. “Okay.”

When they part ways she’s still cradling the book.

 

.

 

Two days later Severa looks up at her from the audience, the rest of her and Cynthia’s families all wearing equal looks of pristine thrill. Well, except for Kjelle, but she does have her eyebrows raised ever so slightly and that’s how far thrill goes for her most times.

Severa looks like nothing at all and Cynthia only takes a few quick glances at her as the play goes on, catches Cordelia whispering something to her at some point.

She doesn’t think much of it.

“I haven’t brought you any flowers, just so you know,” is the first thing Severa says after the play.

She’s invited herself into the changing room and right now she and Cynthia are the only people around, the others already outside to celebrate.

Cynthia makes a face. “That would’ve been _really_ embarrassing.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not you who had to sit through two hours of my mother’s babbling.”

There’s something in the way Severa says that, something in the edges of it, that makes Cynthia take a reflexive step forward, worry quickly taking over the last crumbs of post-performance adrenaline.

“She kept on going about howㅡ _happy_ I look now that I’m with you and how glad she is and it was justㅡ”

“Severa?”

It kind of hurts to see how she flinches at that, how she keeps her eyes on the floor even as Cynthia’s hands brush the hair from her face. “Are you alright?”

It comes a bit like a wave too tall, a cliff too high; a bit like a punch.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The silence wraps around Cynthia’s throat like rope, strangles nothing but a lost look out of her as Severa bites down on her lower lip like she’s trying not to spill all of herself out loud.

It was supposed to be just for a little while right from the start after all, it was supposed to pop like a bubble, cheap soap drying away in the summer heat. It was supposed to help.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t have lied to Cordelia in the first place.” It’s the worst thing to say at the moment, the most unfair and gratuitous, but it’s not wrong.

Severa snaps back up like a broken string anyway and when she speaks it’s nothing but fury, nothing but bared bile.

“What do _you_ know!” she growls, swats Cynthia’s hands away like they’ve burnt her. Maybe they have. “You’ve never had to deal with this, you’ve never had people looking at you but only seeing your _mother_.”

Her voice gets smaller as she speaks, tight and thin like she’s swallowing tears down with every word. “It’s not like these two weeks meant anything to you anyway.”

Cynthia’s stomach drops at her feet.

“You,” she says (maybe, she’s not so sure about what her body is doing anymore), takes a step back towards the door. “You don’t know a thing about the ones who love you.”

Then she’s out of the room, out of the theatre, out in the streets that buzz and scream like the inside of her skull.

 

.

 

She’s messed up.

There’s no other fancy, sugar-coated way of saying it, no denying just how much of a disaster she’s brought upon herself.

She’s been ignoring Severa for three days straight.

 _Haha, straight_ , goes the most worn out, edging on distraught, part of her mind. Cynthia groans.

“You done brooding away like a rotten mushroom yet?” Kjelle’s voice sounds just as it’s been sounding for the past three days, which means it sounds far more distressed than the average user of rotten mushrooms as similes.

It’d be almost funny if only Cynthia could bring herself to peel her face off her pillow.

“Kjeeeeelle,” she utters. “I’m the worst.”

“You sure are.”

More groaning, a faint attempt at getting up. Failed.

“And you’re not helping.”

She must have sounded quite morose just now because Kjelle sighs and it sounds like she’s steeling herself to be a Good Older Sister, which is something she hardly ever bothers trying to achieve. (That’s because most times she doesn’t even have to try but there’s no need to say it out loud.)

“So,” Kjelle starts, and Cynthia drowns a nervous giggle into the pillow. “Actually, I came to tell you Severa’s downstairs. She looks kinda freaked out, but that may be just mom’s murderous aura.”

Cynthia would consider becoming one with her bed if she could only make enough order in her mind for basic trains of thoughts.

Kjelle gives her some time, then, “do you want to see her?”

 _I want to sleep for a hundred years_ , Cynthia thinks.

“Iㅡ Sure, okay.”

Once she manages to finally get up she’s alone in her room but that’s fine, at least she can slap her own cheeks without Kjelle’s usual scoffing.

Then there’s Severa standing at her door and the world comes to a stop, pulls Cynthia’s body forward with vertigo; it’s a split second thing but she still grips the sheets.

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, whatever greeting to make her stop just _staring_ , when Severa takes a step forward.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, and for a moment Cynthia doesn’t have the faintest idea of what to do. “I took it all out on you the other day, that was bad.”

Another step forward, fingers twisted till they turn white. “I was an asshole.”

“Pretty sure you were _born_ an asshole.”

It’s a kneejerk reaction, teasing Severa, it flows out of years over years of bantering, out of what looks like they still sort of have. Severa sits by the edge of the bed with puffed up cheeks and that’s part of it too, it makes Cynthia’s lungs breathe a little more easily.

“Yeah, well, either way I’m really sorry. Okay?”

Cynthia nods once, careful.

Then Severa, because she’s Severa and she was born an asshole, looks up at her and asks, “what do you know about the ones who love me?”

She says it with no hesitation, no stuttering around the words like she always does in times like these, no coughing up sentences like they’re furballs sticky with unwanted truths.

She says it and Cynthia answers.

“I know the way your mother looks at you, and how your father always leaves the last dessert for you, and how much our friends admire you. I know Owain said you would be downright scary if you were more like Cordelia.” She can’t help but laugh at this, Owain’s horrified look when they’d talked about it still vivid in her memories.

Severa welcomes the news with a roll of her eyes, her own way of accepting them and Cynthia’s clue to continue.

She takes a deep breath, dives in. “I know I like you.”

For a few seconds Severa doesn’t move; she doesn’t even look like she’s breathing. Then she blinks.

“Oh,” is all she says, but it’s low and soft and filled to the brim with _understanding_ so clear it’s almost blinding.

It doesn’t last long though, and Cynthia finds herself watching as Severa rummages through the pockets of her coat with the kind of static fascination that comes from having no idea of what’s going on.

“I’ve got something for you,” Severa explains, mouth a sheepish smile. “Can you turn around?”

Cynthia complies, waits. She doesn’t know what for, doesn’t know what to make out of the sudden cold feeling on her skin and Severa’s hands on her back, fingers resting on her shoulders.

She looks at the navy blue stone dangling from her neck like it’s the key to the deepest secrets of their universe.

“You got me a book, so…” Several trails off, leans forward at the same time Cynthia turns to her. She doesn’t pull away.

“Do you like me?”

When she relaxes against her, Cynthia’s hands find their way to her waist and this time it feels real, it feels like it’s actually happening.

“Yeah,” Severa states, unwavering. “Sorry I was slow.”

That makes them both laugh under their breaths, quiet like sleeping birds.

Then Severa curls her hands right below Cynthia’s jaw, right above her pulse, and kisses her just as quietly. Her lips are parted and Cynthia’s mind goes blank.

The lie was never supposed to last after all.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> tiny trivia: the Mystery Someone cynthia dated in middle school is none other than gerome, zan zaaan.  
> i'm sad i couldn't manage to use more of the kids in this tbh :(( theyre all very much fed up with the gay tho, just like you all after reading this.  
> but thank u <33


End file.
